


Let's Go Home

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-21
Updated: 2010-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Somehow, in the paparazzi whirlwind that followed, Changmin had forgotten the snow, the sunset, and crying silently with Yoochun.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Go Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sin_delight](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sin_delight).



> Written for sin_delight for the Help Haiti auction, to this prompt: "Sometimes, bad things have to happen for better things to take place. Sometimes, bad things have to happen for you to appreciate the better things you already have." Thanks to Dorinda for the most excellent and swift beta, and for coming up with a title.

BoA's latest comeback showcase was going to be awkward, as these orchestrated reunions in public always were, but Changmin did his best to ignore the cameras and the turning heads, and took his seat in front of Junsu. Around him were empty seats, but across the aisle Taemin from SHINee bowed his head and smiled. Changmin returned the smile and sat rigidly still, trying not to scan the concert hall too obviously. He was saved by Junjin stopping by to make small talk; some cameras snapped; Changmin remembered Junjin's new variety show had started last month; he hoped Junjin wasn't going to ask him to appear on it.

By the time Junjin left, the seats had filled, and Changmin turned to find Yoochun sitting next to him. Of all the rotten luck, Changmin thought, his breath skipping as he watched Yoochun talking to someone at his side. Yoochun's hair was long and neatly wavy, and he wore designer glasses with silver frames. As he spoke, he gestured: graceful, long fingers, and the heavy bracelet Yoohwan had given him still ornamenting his bony wrist. His suit was simple, well-cut, black. Changmin sighed. Yoochun had always looked best in black.

Changmin tore his attention away and greeted his other neighbor, an up-and-coming fashion model whose name he couldn't remember. Changmin glanced over his shoulder at Junsu, who was not quite acknowledging him, and wondered where Jaejoong was. Yunho wouldn't be here; he was already a few months into his military service.

Yoochun inclined his head. "Hello, Changmin-sshi. You're looking well." He smiled very slightly, and spoke with a slow, precise politeness that chilled Changmin's bones.

"You're looking very well, yourself," Changmin replied, utterly honest. "I'm glad."

Yoochun's only response was a brief warming of his smile, then he turned away. To keep the conversation alive -- to regain Yoochun's attention, to see his eyes again -- Changmin asked, "Where's Jaejoong?"

Yoochun faced him and Changmin went cold. Only once before had Changmin seen that icy anger and deep disappointment in Yoochun's eyes, and once was enough for a lifetime. After a pause, Yoochun said, "In Japan," then faced the stage.

Jaejoong's solo tour. Crap. Changmin hadn't exactly forgotten about it, but he hadn't kept it uppermost in his thoughts, either. The tour was well underway by now. He'd meant to send congratulatory flowers. He wondered if his assistant had remembered.

The lights dimmed and the show started with an appropriately grand entrance, but Changmin could barely concentrate on BoA. He watched Yoochun watch the show: saw Yoochun thoroughly disconnect from him and devote himself to BoA's performance. Changmin tried to do the same but found himself gazing at the lights and video screens and remembering the heat and energy and high of being on stage.

By BoA's third song, Changmin realized that if his assistant hadn't sent Jaejoong flowers, he would've heard about it by now -- from Jaejoong himself if not from the fans. He relaxed a little, though it was a small comfort. Yoochun knew he'd forgotten.

Gradually Changmin was pulled into BoA's powerful performance, though he never stopped being hyper-aware of Yoochun sitting next to him. Being so physically close, yet without any connection at all: it was alien, unnatural. Changmin glanced at Yoochun and thought, _I cried on that shoulder_, and it was as if he were remembering someone else's life.

BoA's last song before the encore was one Changmin hadn't heard yet. A beautiful ballad, haunting as it wavered between hopeful and hopeless, and she sang it with the right balance of both. Changmin's gaze moved to Yoochun's profile as she sang:

>   
> _Let's leave this place together  
> Let's leave these memories alone  
> We have no more to give each other  
> Let's say good-bye, let's go home._   
> 

Lit by the glow from the stage, tears streaked Yoochun's cheek in thin threads of blue.

For an instant, all Changmin could feel was the rightness of this moment: that Yoochun could still be moved to tears, could still shed them without hiding, without shame. And once, Changmin would've patted his back or bumped shoulders with him, shared a shaky smile with him.

The sense of rightness evaporated. It was like remembering someone else's life.

During the interval before the encore Junsu bent forward and rested his hand on Yoochun's back, and Changmin heard him say, "I like how you changed the bridge." He didn't hear Yoochun's response, and sat stupidly for a few moments while they conversed next to him, Junsu leaning to be at Yoochun's level. No official cameras snapped, but Changmin envisioned the fancams and saw himself sitting aloof and excluded.

While Yoochun and Junsu talked, Changmin surreptitiously pulled out his iPhone, and an online search confirmed that Yoochun had written the song. Of course. He should have guessed it. Beautiful, haunting, hopeful, and hopeless: it had Yoochun written all over it.

When the concert was over and the lights came up, Changmin lost sight of Yoochun in the flurry of people coming and going. By the VIP exit, he caught a glimpse of Junsu's back before getting waylaid by Daesung. Changmin scanned the crowd while nodding and half-listening, but never saw Yoochun.

Yoochun hadn't even said good-bye.

\-----

Changmin allowed himself a day of denial before admitting how much he needed to see Yoochun, talk to him. Even if it were to say good-bye and finally sever the fine, fragile thread that had once been the strongest, most secure bond.

He worked up the courage to call, discovered Yoochun had changed his phone number, and let the bleak realization sink in -- Yoochun had changed his number and hadn't let Changmin know -- before tapping some contacts to find the current number. The call went to voicemail, and Changmin hung up, unsure what to say. When the second call went to voicemail, he'd prepared.

"Yoochun. Hyung. This is Changmin. We didn't get to talk the other day, and I'd like to. Very much. Please."

He tried not to sound too pleading, but when three days had passed and Yoochun hadn't returned his call, and the follow-up calls all went to voicemail, Changmin thought maybe he hadn't sounded pleading enough.

Once, he would've called Jaejoong about it, because Jaejoong had a knack for telling Changmin what to do. It didn't always work as well as planned, but it at least pointed Changmin in a certain direction. Now, however, calling Jaejoong wasn't an attractive prospect; Changmin still felt slightly guilty for forgetting about Jaejoong's solo tour, and he had a feeling Jaejoong would sense that guilt and turn the conversation into a recitation of Changmin's many faults.

Changmin didn't want to bother Yunho about it -- he figured Yunho had more important things to worry about -- so that left Junsu. Not an ideal choice for several reasons, but Changmin hoped some of the old wounds had healed by now.

Junsu answered the phone with an unpromising, "If you're calling to talk about Yoochun, don't. I'm not his keeper. Talk to Yoochun."

Changmin paced to the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse and stared out at the drab sprawl of Seoul under a grey afternoon sky. "I would, but he's not taking my calls."

"Then there's your answer," Junsu said, and Changmin wondered if Junsu was being intentionally nasty.

Changmin rubbed his forehead, watching cars crawl through traffic far below. "I can't leave it like this," he said finally, and there was a long pause before Junsu replied, "You may have to. I'm sorry," he added without a trace of sympathy in his voice, but Changmin couldn't blame him for that. It was true: the more you loved someone, the more you could hurt him.

\-----

Yoochun hadn't moved and, remembering Yoochun's night owl habits, Changmin was pretty sure when he could find him at home. Fortunately, house-stalking had become an agreed-upon routine with the remaining fans: they only came on days when an appearance was scheduled. So Changmin showed up at Yoochun's front gate without being too worried that it'd be all over the gossip boards by the morning.

"Who-- Oh." Yoochun's voice through the intercom cut off abruptly, and Changmin stared up at the security camera. Not at all certain that Yoochun would let him in, but determined to stay until Yoochun told him to leave.

The wait felt longer than it lasted, then finally the gate to the entryway buzzed. Ha-Rang barked through the front door before it opened, Yoochun shushing Ha-Rang and nodding a greeting to Changmin. Yoochun was dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, his hair tied back in a sloppy ponytail, looking so familiarly comfortable that Changmin's body anticipated a hug that never came.

While Changmin was removing his shoes, Yoochun said, "Look, I'm sorry you came all the way over here, but I don't think we have anything to talk about."

Changmin ignored this and knelt to rub Ha-Rang's ears and neck. After a moment Yoochun muttered, "I forgot what a stubborn prick you can be," and wandered to the living room, leaving Changmin to follow with Ha-Rang.

The living room was neat and nicely furnished. Yoochun gestured vaguely, and Changmin sat on one of the stylish leather sofas. Yoochun leaned against the bar, facing him, and crossed his arms. They gazed at each other in silence, and Changmin struggled to find the right words.

Yoochun suddenly smiled -- it was not a warm smile -- and shook his head a little. "What is it you want?"

_I want you_, Changmin thought with such force of yearning it made him dizzy. Yearning, and futility: all that he'd had once, all that he'd lost.

He seized on the safest gambit he could, not quite a lie, and said, "We didn't get a chance to say much at BoA's concert, and I wanted to compliment you on the song, 'No More.' It's yours, isn't it?"

Yoochun's eyes narrowed slightly. Changmin licked his lips and continued, "The beauty, the sadness... She sang it well... very suited..." He trailed off awkwardly.

Voice soft, Yoochun sang, _"We have no more to give each other. Let's say good-bye, let's go home."_

Changmin took a steadying breath. He had missed hearing Yoochun sing, had missed the vulnerability in Yoochun's voice as much as the strength. He remembered arguments they'd had over Yoochun's singing. How important it had all seemed then.

"It's beautiful," Changmin whispered.

"You don't remember, do you?" Yoochun almost sounded amused beneath the layer of frost. He shook his head again and paced around the bar. "That's what you said to me. That last ski trip we took."

Changmin stared at him, and the memories rushed forth like the frightening, screaming crush of fans breaking through airport security. He remembered watching dawn over snowdrifts from the warmth and security of Yoochun's arms. He remembered the fading sunset glinting on the snow, and feeling like everything had to change because the group couldn't go on limping the way it had been. All the lies and miscommunication had been taking their toll; Yunho was at breaking point under the strain; Junsu had fallen ill again; Jaejoong was drinking more than any of them wanted to admit.

Changmin remembered that the week he'd broken up with Yoochun was the week the group had officially disbanded. Somehow, in the paparazzi whirlwind that followed, he'd forgotten the snow, the sunset, crying silently with Yoochun, saying, "We have no more to give each other. Let's just go home."

"Ah, Changmin," Yoochun sighed, and Changmin didn't allow himself to trust the note of affection he heard in it.

Changmin wiped his eyes and swallowed, regaining his composure. "I was so selfish. I just wanted it to end."

Yoochun crossed the room and sat in the chair by Changmin's side. "I was selfish, too," he said. "I didn't ever want it to end." Changmin looked at him, but before he could say anything, Yoochun continued, "Yunho never would've made the decision if you hadn't pushed him, so maybe that's the good thing that happened. You know, I recently saw some old photos from that week... Yunho. Junsu. Thank God, we all got through it."

"Yes," Changmin said quietly. He gazed at Yoochun until Yoochun met his eyes, then said, "But I didn't think about everything I was losing. And, truthfully, I've been trying not to think about everything I lost ever since then." He shook his head. "I can't do that anymore. Everything I've lost is right here in front of me."

Something flashed in Yoochun's eyes: surprise, caution, maybe a hint of relief. But he said, "You lost a whole lot more than this. We all did." And after all this time, it was still a fresh wound, unhealed.

"Yes," Changmin said again, and glanced away. So this was it, after all. Finally saying good-bye, because there was no way to go back, undo the past, erase the pain. "I'm sorry." He knew he should leave, but couldn't lift himself from the sofa yet. The past, the memories, weighed him down.

Yoochun leaned over, patted his knee, and said, "At least I got a good song out of it." He grinned -- that wide, warm, voluptuous grin Changmin had never expected to see again -- and Changmin grinned back, tears overflowing.

"Aw, Changmin..." Yoochun lightly rubbed his shoulder. "Why'd you come here, anyway?"

Changmin shook his head, covering his eyes, cursing himself for crying. He wasn't the one who cried: that was Yoochun's job. Yoochun rubbed soothing circles on his back.

When he found his voice, Changmin said, "Because I'm selfish and maybe a little stupid. I thought maybe if you didn't hate me... I came because I miss you. I miss you so damn much."

Yoochun moved to the sofa and put his arms around Changmin. Changmin buried his face against Yoochun's shoulder, though his tears had stopped. Yes, he was selfish enough to want this and take this: Yoochun's arms around him, strong, reassuring, secure. Yoochun softly shushing him, rocking him gently. Holding him through his weakness and vulnerability without judgment or censure. Simply loving him.

"We can't go back," Yoochun said, very gentle.

"I know. I know we can't." Changmin took a shuddering breath.

Yoochun combed his fingers through Changmin's hair. "I don't hate you. I never did."

Changmin pulled back enough to look at him, and realized, of course Yoochun wouldn't. This only made him feel worse. Wounds that had never healed.

Yoochun cupped the back of Changmin's neck. "It wouldn't have been better if I had," he said, and Changmin smiled a little at how easily Yoochun could read him.

"I missed that smile," Yoochun said quietly, touching it.

Changmin watched him for a long moment, not trusting his breath or heartbeat. "We can't go back," he said at last, "but can we go forward?"

Yoochun was slow to answer, thinking about it, but when he did answer, he touched Changmin's lips again, touched the dip of one corner. "It won't be easy."

"I know."

Yoochun smiled a little. "But it'll be worth it."

Changmin smiled back. "I know."

Yoochun grinned at him and gave him a quick, hard hug. He sat back, fumbling with the ponytail that was escaping its clasp.

"Since you're here and all... Do you want a beer? I was working on a song earlier. Do you want to hear it?"

Changmin couldn't stop smiling and couldn't stop watching him. "Yes. And yes."

When he followed Yoochun to the music room, he grabbed Yoochun from behind and hugged him hard, squeezed until Yoochun elbowed him affectionately.

Changmin leaned on the window sill, holding his beer, as Yoochun sat at the keyboard. The first notes filled the room, and Changmin closed his eyes. _To realize what I had, maybe I had to lose it first_, he thought. He opened his eyes and already felt the dreamy pull of the music.

_I won't lose it again_.

(the end)


End file.
